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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27751753">Way Back When</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doombuggybabe/pseuds/Doombuggybabe'>Doombuggybabe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Injury, Childhood Friends, F/M, FBI Agent Reader, Fluff, I dont know how to tag, Let me know if you want more chapters, Mutual Pining, Original Character Death(s), Reader-Insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:48:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,670</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27751753</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doombuggybabe/pseuds/Doombuggybabe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I couldn't say what came over me at that moment. Only that I saw the knife and ran towards him. Maybe dying could be a painless thing if it was protecting the person you loved.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Up until now, I would have never described my life as interesting. While yes, I grew up in Las Vegas and my family was pretty insane, my life wasn’t interesting. I went to school, had one friend for most of my childhood, survived high school, and then I went to college then eventually grad school. I studied linguistics and literature with an emphasis on the cultural influences of both. I was lucky to find my niche and after years of working my ass off, I was offered a consulting position with the FBI in Quantico, Virginia. </p><p>I’m barely moved into my new apartment when I get my first official case consultation. I get a phone call from my director, telling me to pack a bag and that I’m on assignment with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. The only thing I’ve heard about them is that they tend to have trouble with the brass and they focus mainly on serial killers. Here’s hoping I don’t die during my first assignment. I don’t think I could get the deposit back on my apartment. </p><p>My alarm goes off but I’m already awake. I had a restless night, dreaming of being chopped up by some creep while reciting Shakespeare. I shower, do my hair, and throw on a dress I spent hours agonizing over, sensible heeled boots, and a blazer. My go-bag has variations of the same, including field clothing and clothes to sleep in with a bunch of extra stuff as I’m not sure what I’ll need. I pack several books just in case I’m not working around the clock.  My director, Gemma sent me directions to the floor where the BAU is and the name of the man I’m supposed to meet with an SSA Aaron Hotchner. It’s in another building than the one I’ve been working in, without the instruction I’d be hopelessly lost. </p><p>I walk into the building and get into the elevator at the same time as a blonde woman who is dressed in extremely bright clothing. Now how do I get away with that? I make a mental note to verify the dress code with Gemma. I subtly look the woman up and down, noting how fun her glasses are compared to my sensible ones and how I’d kill for her shoes. I clear my throat, “I’m sorry to bug you but I just have to tell you that I love your glasses and your shoes, you remind me of the goddess Iris… she’s uh the goddess of the rainbow and messengers…”<br/>
I tend to weird people out with random unwanted trivia. It’s a compulsion I have that I picked up from my best friend growing up. We always went on weird tangents together. It’s clear why we didn’t have other friends. </p><p>“Well aren’t you fabulous, thank you for the compliment doll face.” She replies bouncy, her hair flying about. “I’m Penelope Garcia, technical analyst and all-around goddess, everyone calls me Garcia.” She extends her hand, I shake it lightly. “I’m Y/N! Y/N L/N, ¿Hablas español?”<br/>
“Unfortunately, I do not mon Amie. Garcia is my stepfather’s last name” I nod when the elevator door dings open. Garcia walks out and I say, “Before you go, could you tell me where SSA Hotchner’s office is? I have a meeting with him in like 2 minutes.” </p><p>We stand outside the bullpen and Garcia points to an office, on the second level above. The blinds are open and I see a man sitting at a desk. “I hope to see you around dollface!” Garcia calls out, as I wave goodbye to her. At least I know one person here who is friendly. I walk up to Agent Hotchner’s office, hoping the clacking of my boots isn’t as loud as it is in my head.<br/>
I walk up the stairs, clutching my bag tightly in my hands. When I approach the office, I see that the door is slightly open. I knock, and hear “Come in.” I walk in and see a severe-looking man working at the desk looking over case files. “Hello sir, I’m Y/N L/N. SSA Harrington sent me for the consultation.” I hover at the entryway. Agent Hotchner stands up and waves his hand, calling me forward. “My name is Aaron Hotchner, but you can call me Hotch.” </p><p>“Right. Hotch” I echo back. He shakes my hand and gestures to the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”<br/>
I sit, placing my bag next to me. “Now, Y/N are you familiar at all with what you’ll be doing with us?” I shake my head. “Out in Washington state, there’s been six murders. At each of the crime scenes, the unsub” I raise my eyebrows. “The unknown subject that is, has been leaving pages of texts, references to plays and novels, things of that nature. They’re also in multiple languages. Now, we brought you on to help out of my team members to decipher it all. You’ll be primarily working with him. We’re hoping a look into what the unsub is referencing and the context around the text will help us catch them.” </p><p>I steady my breathing, he’s a profiler and I don’t want to show that I’m internally freaking out. Before I respond he says, “I understand that you’re nervous, especially since you’re starting out but SSA Harrington wouldn’t send you here unless she was confident in your abilities. My team and I are here to help you.”<br/>
“Right. Thank you, sir. I’ll do my absolute best, I won’t let you down.” I assure him. “Let’s see that you don’t. I see you have your go-bag so after the team is presented the case, we’ll be flying out.” Hotch stands up and I follow him out of the room, bag in tow. He leads me to a small kitchenette and I spy a coffee pot. “Sir, may I?” I ask pointing to the pot. “Feel free, I’m going to gather up the team and I’ll take you to the conference room.”</p><p>Hotch walks off and I make myself a cup of coffee. They have disposable cups, I fill mine with sugar and a heap of powdered creamer before pouring in the coffee. I tentatively take a sip, it basically is mostly sugar. Satisfied, I pop on a top and a sleeve. I see Hotch returning, a row of agents behind him.<br/>
“Everyone, this is Agent Y/N L/N, she’ll be joining us in Washington for our case.” Hotch introduces.<br/>
A group of agents lines up in front of me. Hotch goes down the line introducing his team, “This is Agent Jennifer Jareau” Hotch points to a pretty blonde woman, “ You can call me JJ”<br/>
I awkwardly point back at myself, “I go by Y/N”.  I realize how stupid I sound. Next is a handsome dark-skinned man with fabulous eyebrows, “Agent Derek Morgan” Then an older man, “David Rossi”, and another woman, who has black hair, “Emily Prentiss.” Hotch looks around, “We’re missing another member, it seems Dr. Reid is running late. He can meet us in the conference room.”<br/>
I follow the team into the conference room, they’re all talking amongst themselves. I sipped my coffee watching them all. They seem so close to one another. The team seemed to have a seamless blend with one another, my team while operating efficiently did not radiate the bonds that the BAU did.   </p><p>We enter the conference room, tablets placed around a large round table, there’s only one set of paper files. I see Garcia, standing in front of a large screen. “Dollface! Glad you found Hotch, welcome to our family for a little while. I wish it was under better circumstances.”<br/>
Morgan looks to me, “How do you know Garcia?”<br/>
“We met in the elevator. She was an angel and led me to Hotch’s office” I quickly respond.<br/>
Morgan grins, “That’s my baby girl for you” I smile, not sure what he means by that but I know better than to question it. Everyone takes their seats, leaving one vacant next to me for I assume this Dr. Reid.<br/>
“Okay, crime fighters you are heading to Vancouver, Washington and this one is quite the doozy.”<br/>
Garcia pulls up photos of the murdered women, pre-murder that is. Eerily enough, they all slightly resemble me. They’re all young women with long Y/H/C hair. She’s presenting us with information when the door opens, someone bursting in and interrupting her. </p><p>“Sorry I’m late everyone, had to get coffee” I hear behind me. I turn to look at who this Dr. Reid is. “Reid, this is Agent Y/L/N. She’ll be consulting with you for the case”. I stare at him, familiarity punching me in the gut. He’s much taller and lankier now. His hair is still floppy and he doesn’t wear glasses anymore. My childhood best friend.<br/>
“Spence?” his name leaves my lips.<br/>
“Y/C/N?” No one has called me that nickname in years.<br/>
Everyone in the room turns to us, “Wait, you two know each other?” Prentiss asks. I think I’m still in shock. Spencer and I are still taking each other in. Staring. It’s like we grew overnight. We haven’t seen each other since we were twelve.<br/>
He sits down next to me, placing his coffee on the table. I look away first. “Yeah a lifetime ago,” I say.<br/>
Hotch brings everyone back to reality. “You can catch up on the plane. Garcia, please continue.”<br/>
Garcia’s eyes bounce between Spencer and me but she continues. “The latest victim is Catherine Jacobs a 30-year-old elementary school teacher, her body was found in a warehouse. She had been beaten and strangled. She went missing 3 days before she was found.”<br/>
Garcia pulls up crime scene photos, I gulp trying to hide my horror at seeing a dead person. Around her body, are what looks to be hundreds of pages. I can see now why they asked for someone to help.<br/>
Rossi asks, “What’s with all the paper?”<br/>
“That’s where the lovely Y/N comes in. Each victim was found surrounded by different texts. Some look like literary references and local police don’t even know where to begin with all of it.”<br/>
I feel Spencer’s stare at me. I don’t want to look at him. I haven’t seen him in nearly 20 years. We’re basically strangers. Strangers who were inseparable from ages 3 to 12.<br/>
“Judging by the severity of the beating, there’s a lot of rage here.  It takes strength to do that kind of damage. We’re probably looking at a man.” JJ says, flipping through her tablet.<br/>
“Any evidence of sexual assault?” Prentiss asks.<br/>
Garcia sadly nods, “All six victims show sexual trauma but no DNA was recovered.”<br/>
Hotch looking through his tablet asserts, “Every two weeks another body has turned up. Based on his pattern we’re looking at another body in 4 days unless we find him. We need to get going as soon as possible. It’s a long flight. Wheels up in 30.”<br/>
The team murmurs in agreement and everyone rises. I grab my things and walked over to Garcia before Spencer has a chance to approach me. “Thanks again for your help this morning,” I tell her.<br/>
“Of course my dear, I’m sending you my number so you can contact me anytime.”<br/>
I frown. “You’re not coming with us?”<br/>
“I’m afraid not. I’ll be helping you remotely from my fortress of infinite wisdom but don’t worry I’ll be communicating with you every step of the way.” I smile at her. “You really are a goddess.”  She pulls me into a hug, my hands are full so I’m unable to fully hug back but I appreciate the act of kindness. I pull away from her, “Oh, and don’t forget to tell me how you know our boy wonder Reid” She smirks. As a technical analyst, I’m sure she’ll at the very least figure out we lived in the same neighborhood. The rest will need to be divulged by Spencer and me.<br/>
“Don’t worry, I’ll call you” I laugh. I walk out of the conference room and see Spencer waiting for me.<br/>
“Hi, Y/N” Spencer smiles. He still has the same goofy grin. When you see someone for the first time in a very long time at first you see who they were when you last saw them. You feel the same way you did. For a moment we’re both 12 years old and just as fast we’re grown up.<br/>
I look up at him. I say the first thing to come to my mind. “Spencer, you got so tall” I smile. His eyes travel downward, focusing on my shoes. “You didn’t.” I laugh abruptly.<br/>
Years of memories come flooding back to me.<br/>
Silence fills the air. What do you say to someone you haven’t spoken to in nearly twenty years? I remember a time when Spencer was my favorite person in the whole world. It’s crazy that we’re working at the same place.<br/>
“I should get ready to go,” I say, gripping my bag tightly. Spencer looks disappointed, “I’ll see you on the jet”.<br/>
I walk away from him, turning the corner and hiding in the hallway. “A private jet?” I ask myself quietly. I can’t believe that this is my life right now. Leaning against the wall I remember the last time I saw Spencer.<br/>
My parents were getting divorced and we were moving out of the neighborhood. Spencer and I stopped being in the same class a long time ago but after school, we always hung out. Playing make-believe detective, riding our bikes around town, or sneaking into movies. Spencer was brilliant, a total genius, he was already finishing high school before I even graduated 8th grade. He’d be starting college soon but to me, he was just my best friend. I knew I wouldn’t be seeing him again. His mom was sick and he couldn’t really leave her for long periods of time. My mother was very strict and didn’t like the fact that I spent all my time with a boy anyway.<br/>
I always had a giant crush on him, I wrote his name in hearts all over my diary. He came on his bike to see me off before I left. My mother found an apartment that was almost 2 hours away. I can remember that he was out of breath when he showed up. He had almost missed me. “Here, I got this for you.” He presented me with a copy of Little Women. “I read it already, I thought you might like it. You’re a lot like the girl, Jo. I thought you’d want something to read on the drive.”<br/>
“Spence you know I can’t read as fast as you… but thank you I love it.” I remember the feeling of the book clutched against my chest. My heart racing. I was crying a little, I didn’t want to say goodbye to my best and only friend. My mother and older brother were calling to me from inside the house, that we were leaving and I needed to grab my bags. I hugged Spencer tight. He wrapped his arms around me, squeezing back. I wiped my face, “I already miss you”<br/>
“I already miss you too,” Spencer whispered back. Suddenly, he pulled me close to him and he kissed me on the lips. My first kiss. He pulled away just as fast and I was too stunned to even respond. His glasses were always sliding down his face and they bumped my nose when he kissed me. My brother, came out then, yelling for me to come inside. Spencer then got on his bike and rode away. We never spoke again, until now.<br/>
I have a theory things seem more dramatic when you’re 12.<br/>
“Y/N!” I hear my name being called. It’s Prentiss. “I wanted to show you to the jet, didn’t want you to get lost.”<br/>
“Thank you, I really appreciate that!” I shake off my thoughts. I have bigger things to focus on than a boy I haven’t seen in 20 years.<br/>
“So you guys have a private jet?” I ask Prentiss as she leads the way. She laughs, and says, “You have no idea how many people marvel at that.”<br/>
Now I've never been on a private jet, but I'm guessing this is as swanky as it gets. It's not large inside, but it's definitely enough that everyone is seated comfortably. We look over more crime scene photos. I watch as the team shares theories based on the evidence. Spencer is still the same in the way he rattles on the information. Of course, his brilliance has only grown.<br/>
I still haven't spoken yet. Washington police didn't send over any scans of the texts so I don't have anything to do just yet. I just watch and listen. In the middle of all the horror, they joke with each other. Spencer says something strange that makes everyone go silent. Good to know some things don't change. It takes everything I have not to burst out laughing.<br/>
When they're finished discussing the information, the team separates a little. My guess is to decompress before they get to work non-stop.  Spencer rises and makes his way over to me. Eyes shift toward us, but no one says a word.<br/>
Spencer clears his throat, “Is it okay if I sit here?”<br/>
“Go ahead” I brace myself for whatever conversation we’re about to have. Spencer sits down next to me, his legs are long and gangly. His pants ride up a bit and I see he still wears mismatched socks.<br/>
“How long have you been in Virginia?” Spencer asks me. That’s the first thing he asks me? Seriously? I want to ask him every question that’s past my mind in 18 years. Is he married? Kids? How did he feel about the new Star Trek movies or the new seasons of Doctor Who?  Did he miss me?<br/>
“Almost 5 months now, I’m fresh off the farm,” I note the lines in the corners of his eyes. He even has a little facial hair. We grew up somehow. Spencer nods, he’s squinting slightly, and licks his lips. I know he’s thinking a mile a minute. With his mind, it’s probably ten miles.<br/>
“How have you been the last, I don’t know, 18 years?” I ask.<br/>
“18 years, 10 months, 17 days since we last saw each other. I’ve been good. A lot has happened…”<br/>
I get an idea. “How about we list highlights? Major life stuff like college, marriages, kids…” </p><p>Why does a part of me hope he’s not married with children?<br/>
“I can start, I guess I went to NYU, I’ve never been married, no kids. I had a serious boyfriend but I ended things.” God, it’s awful trying to summarize your life. “My mom got remarried a few years ago, my brother is married with 3 daughters. They’re all still back home.”<br/>
“You always wanted to go to New York,” Spencer says. “Why did you break off your relationship if you don’t mind me asking,” I don’t know why I brought up Brian... it’s been 2 years and I’m fine now but sharing this with Spencer is still strange.<br/>
“I thought I loved Brian but I never had an ease with him. He couldn’t make me laugh when I was with him, my face never ached from smiling too much. Didn’t help that he was cheating on me... but that was a long time ago.”<br/>
“It sounds like you made the right call. He was clearly stupid if he cheated on you.”<br/>
“Your turn.” I think of a question. “How’s your mom?” When we were little I didn’t really understand what was going on with her; I just knew she had schizophrenia. Another reason my mother thought I shouldn’t see Spencer. My parents were extremely uninformed about mental illness.<br/>
Spencer looks down at his hands. “She had to be institutionalized a few years ago, the stability has helped her a lot though. I write to her every day, she’s going to love that we’re working together. She always liked you.”<br/>
“I always liked her. That must’ve been really hard for you. I'm sorry”<br/>
“It’s been this way for a long time. Let’s see what else? I have two degrees in Psychology and Sociology then I received 3 PhDs in Mathematics, Engineering, and Chemistry. I’m not married or anything. Not that I’ve even come close to it… I started in the BAU when I was 22 and I’ve been here ever since.” He makes a face. He doesn’t know what else to say.<br/>
“What are the chances of both of us ending up in the FBI?” I ask aloud.<br/>
“Do you want the actual statistic?”<br/>
I laugh, “No Spencer, I’m simply marveling at the fact that after 18 years, 10 months, and 17 days I’m working with my first real friend.”<br/>
“You were my first real friend too.”<br/>
Morgan gets up and sits across us, “So now that you two have caught up, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Y/N?” His attitude is playfully flirtatious, it seems like something to make Spencer squirm more than anything else. I decide to play along.<br/>
I lean forward and Morgan follows suit, I feel Spencer uncomfortably shift in his seat. “I don’t think you’re ready for me just yet gorgeous,” I whisper. Morgan whoops loudly and laughs, “Pretty boy, I don’t know how you were able to keep up with her.” Spencer gives Morgan an annoyed look.<br/>
I start to feel the plane descending, I grip the arm of the chair tightly. Within moments, we landed and now the real work begins.<br/>
When we land, a couple of black SUVs are waiting for us and we drive to the station at once. Hotch drives the SUV I’m in and Rossi rides shotgun. Prentiss rides in the back with me while Morgan, Spencer, and JJ are in other heading to the last crime scene. Garcia has already started blowing up my phone with messages asking how I’m doing. I tell her I’m doing fine and I’ll call her later.<br/>
I start to feel anxious as we approach the police station, I hope I can do this. I decide to distract myself by taking in my surroundings. The Washington scenery is beautiful, the sky is gray but the trees and hills are all vibrant green.<br/>
When we get to the station, the lead detective is already waiting outside. He approaches Hotch first, “Agent Hotchner, I want to thank you again for coming out. We really appreciate it.” He shakes Hotch’s hand firmly. “Detective Lang this is SSA Rossi, SSA Prentiss, and our consultant Agent Y/L/N.” Detective Lang shakes each of our hands. He’s tall and fit, I’d guess in his early 40s. I can’t help but notice how handsome he is. Black hair and bright green eyes, what a hunk. His eyes linger on me just a little, something Prentiss takes notice of. We share a look but don't say a word.<br/>
Detective Lang leads us inside, other officers stare as we walk in and he shows us to a conference room where boards have already been set up for us to work through the evidence. On the table, there are 4 large file boxes. “I’ll let you folks get to work, let me know if there’s anything else you need. Agent Y/L/N, will you come with me to get photocopies of the crime scene texts? The copies are in my office” Lang asked with a smile.<br/>
I trail behind him as he leads me towards his office. “So Agent Y/L/N, do you have a first name? Or is it just Agent?” I chuckle, “It’s Y/N. How about you Detective?” When he gets to his office, I see awards and accolades posted all around the room. There are even photos and newspaper clippings of his achievements.<br/>
“You can call me Daniel. The copies are right over here” Daniel goes to pick up the box when the phone rings, he answers “Detective Lang”  I can tell the call will take a few minutes so I pick the box up from his desk, it’s surprisingly heavy. I hear him mutter into the phone, “Y/N, please let me know if you need anything else from me” He smiles at me and I walk out. Is there a protocol for flirting when you’re on a case?<br/>
I dropped the box off in the conference room, dropping it on the table with a loud bang. Startled Rossi turns around, “What do you have in that thing, rocks?” I began going through the box, pulling out sheets and sheets of handwritten text. It will definitely take me hours to get through all these. Prentiss’s phone rings, “Yeah?” I can't tell who's on the other side of the conversation.<br/>
I decide to mind my own business and start reading through the texts. I start with the text left around the first victim, Josephine Lennox. The handwriting is messy and hard to make out and there are certain spots where the pen used poked through the page.<br/>
“Hotch, we should head out.” Prentiss states after hanging up.<br/>
“Rossi, Prentiss, and I are meeting up with JJ and Morgan to speak to the families. Reid will be here with you to examine the evidence. Call as soon as you uncover something.” Hotch says, leading everyone else out the door.<br/>
I sigh to myself, it seems consulting with the BAU on this will be lonely work. Not to even mention that I’ll be alone with Spencer soon.<br/>
Reading through the texts, I can see that the unsub handwriting is tiny and there’s more text than I previously thought. I stare at the pages chewing on a pen cap. I keep on making notes on the texts in red ink trying to see what connections I make but all I keep on noticing are spelling errors. I feel like I’m grading a paper.<br/>
I’m lost in thought when Spencer bursts through the door startling me.<br/>
“Welcome to my cave. Grab a seat” I say. Spencer nods and I spot a coffee cup in his hand. I think someone may have a caffeine addiction.<br/>
“How was the crime scene?” I ask as Spencer sits down across from me.<br/>
“The unsub is at least forensically sophisticated, no DNA left at any of the scenes. None of the victims were murdered where they were found so we confirmed the warehouses were just disposal sights. We think he might be keeping them inside buildings to ensure that none of the writings he leaves get damaged by the weather. So he’s organized enough to plan out the abductions, has a secluded area to assault and kill the victims, and also as a means of transport big enough to hide them.” He answers rapidly.<br/>
“You got all that from walking around a warehouse?” I ask, completely blown away by his analysis. I’ve always been a believer in psychology but it’s entirely different to see this in action.<br/>
“It’s what the BAU does…” Spencer responds shyly. “Have you found out anything interesting about the text yet?”<br/>
“Aside from the small sloppy handwriting and spelling errors, I haven’t been able to recognize a pattern in any of these passages. Whatever they are though, it’s not cohesive.” I slide a couple of pages to Spencer.<br/>
I quote, “The memory of her betrays me, letting go of all that I’ve known. There’s a screaming silence around her throat that beckons me. Calling me day and night, waiting, wondering, when, and why? Will she see me through her eyes?”<br/>
“Do you think he was writing about Josephine Lennox?” Spencer asks combing through another page.<br/>
“I’m not sure. In one paragraph he mentions, “her hair is like sunlight”  and then a few lines later they write,  “I’ve waited for her all my life, bittersweet chocolate hair, waves running down her body.” I read back to him. Everything just looks like ramblings.<br/>
“I’m sure the team is scoping through victimology right now, maybe they’ve dyed their hair while he was watching them so they didn’t complete his fantasy? I think he’s looking for something or someone. I can’t tell exactly what until we go through this more.” Spencer looks up at me.<br/>
“We’re in for a tough few days,”  I say biting my lip.<br/>
“At least we’re helping each other. Usually, when there’s something like this in a case, I work alone. It’s nice to have you here to help, especially with our history…” Spencer says, sharing a look.<br/>
Many years ago, Spencer and I shared this ability to read each other. With a single look, he could guess what I was thinking and I could understand whatever he was feeling. It became a game to us, I would spot something grab Spencer and say, “Read my mind!” and then he’d accurately guess what I was thinking about. We’d trick the other kids into thinking we were psychic, along with Spencer’s magic tricks we were our own personal magic show.<br/>
Now as we stare at each other, I don’t know what he’s thinking. His eyes look lighter than they used, maybe my memory isn’t as sharp as I like to think it is. I wonder if he sees differences in me. Do I still look like the little girl I once was?<br/>
The door bursts open, and Daniel walks inside holding a cup of coffee. “Y/N I thought you could use a pick me up.” Daniel smiles at me and it fades immediately when he notices Spencer.<br/>
Daniel turns his attention to Spencer, “Hello I’m Detective Lang and you are?” He holds out his hand for Spencer to shake it. Spencer waves briefly and turns back to the pages, “Dr. Reid.” His tone emphasizes Doctor.<br/>
“Right. Well, Y/N, I got you some coffee.” He hands me the cup. “Thank you, Daniel, I’m going to need all the energy I can get.” I stare pointedly at Spencer, urging him to be polite. “Right Dr. Reid?”<br/>
“Right.”<br/>
Daniel looks down at Spencer and back at me, he gives me a sympathetic smile. “I’ll let you get back to it then.” Daniel retreats out the way he came, closing the door once more.<br/>
“Daniel? Really?” Spencer's voice drips with sarcasm. I scoff, taking a sip of coffee and realizing it’s gross. I groan in disgust, placing the cup on the far edge of the table. I hear Spencer snicker loudly, I gently kick him under the table. “Oh shut up,” I say returning back to the texts and despite my annoyance, I smile. I slyly look back up at Spencer and see he’s smiling too.<br/>
“These violent delights have violent ends”  is written in the middle of two separate ramblings. Finally, I find some familiarity in the texts. I share the news with Spencer.<br/>
“Within the context of Romeo and Juliet, Friar Lawrence is encouraging Romeo to love in moderation as love can be all-consuming and end terribly. Do you think the unsub knows that though? Or was it taken in the sense that the unsub knows his end will be ultimately violent?” I ponder out loud. I write down Romeo and Juliet on a sticky note and place it on the board behind me.<br/>
Spencer squints, “Perhaps the unsub was scorned by a woman in some way. He could even potentially be connected to the first victim.”<br/>
Hours pass, we try to read through the messy scripts, noting spelling errors, descriptions, and quotes from actual literature. We’re not even halfway done by the time the rest of the team returns to the police department.<br/>
Everyone fills in all the information they’ve gathered throughout the day. Posting photos and notes on the clear boards in the conference room.<br/>
Here’s what they know:<br/>
These women were stalked<br/>
Each of the women was blitzed after their boyfriends dropped them off at home<br/>
All of them have pretty features, similar body types<br/>
They were all killed within 24 hours of their abductions<br/>
My eyes are dry and I’m so hungry. It’s the middle of the night already. Hotch decides for us to call it a night so we can get back to work first thing in the morning. We all ride back to the hotel in silence, luckily it’s nearby the station.<br/>
The brass or whoever books the rooms managed to get us all on the same floor but we’re not all near each other. Hotch hands room keys to each of us, the only two rooms next to each other are Spencer and me. The team says goodnight to one another and we all shut the door behind us.<br/>
The room is modest, it’s a full-sized bed and a bathroom. I turn on the TV desperate for some noise. An old rerun of the 90s sitcom plays in the background. I take a quick shower and throw on some PJs. We never grabbed dinner so I sneak out of my room, cell phone, room key, and wallet in my hands. I’m hoping since it’s late no one is out of their rooms. I would really hate for my new team to catch me in little shorts and a baggy shirt that makes it look like I’m not wearing pants.<br/>
I find a vending machine, I only have a 10 on me so I purchase a bunch of snacks. Chips, candy, and chocolate. I throw in a water bottle for good measure with the additional change. Arms full, I waddle back to my room trying not to make a sound. I struggle to slide the room key in the door when the goods come tumbling out of my hands and the water bottle hits the ground with a solid thwack. Fuck. I unlock the door pushing out the door jamb to ensure that it won’t lock me out. I kneel down and start to pick up the snacks when I hear a door open.<br/>
“Need any help?” Spencer asks peering out the door. He sticks his door jam out and kneels to help me grab my snacks. His hair is messy like he was already laying down and he’s wearing a shirt and plaid pajama pants.<br/>
“Thanks. Hungry?” I shake a bag of chips in his face. It’s a brand I remember he used to eat.<br/>
“I could eat, let me grab my key and I’ll meet you inside.” He says. With everything in my hands, I push the door open with my feet while Spencer walks back into his room. I drop all the food on the bed eyeing what I’m going to consume first.<br/>
My door opens and Spencer walks in, removing the door jamb and shutting it. He stands in front of my bed, looking unsure of where to sit. I flop down and pat the spot next to me. I want the awkwardness between us to dissipate as quickly as possible. I start with a pack of sour patch kids. Spencer sits down next to me and opens the bag of chips. We sit staring at the old episode of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.<br/>
“How are you handling your first case?” Spencer asks in between bites.<br/>
“I haven’t totally messed up yet so that’s something… I don’t know if they made the right call to send me. What if I can’t figure out?” Another girl could die…” I put down the sour patch kids, my hunger fading with the pressure I feel rising.<br/>
“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t supposed to be. You must be pretty brilliant if they sent you to help me out… I am a genius after all.” I look to Spencer as he’s flashing this faux cocky grin. He’s referencing a common argument we used to have after he was actually a certified genius. I shove him lightly, “You suck you know that right?”<br/>
“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.”<br/>
In another episode of Fresh Prince, the theme song begins and I start singing along. A memory creeps up on how I’d make Spencer watch episodes with me, eventually, we knew all the words to the theme song and rapped along every time. I finish the first verse, “Come on, Spence, use that eidetic memory.”<br/>
The second verse starts and he joins me, using exaggerated arm motions we’re both bouncing along to the beat hard enough that the bed is moving. We both shout the last line and start laughing loudly. God, I hope they can’t hear us outside.<br/>
“How weird is this?” I ask, laying back against the pillows. Spencer cautiously leans back too, our bodies aligned.<br/>
“This is indeed very weird.” I look at him. His shaggy mop of hair, the curve of his nose, his jawline, his slightly chapped lips because he still has a habit of biting them. Spencer shifts and meets my eyes, “I missed you when you went away.” He licks his lips.<br/>
“I really missed you too” There’s this intensity in the air that I can’t even begin to explain. A childhood together, a shared kiss, and then years of wondering where the other was. It’d be a lie if I said Spencer didn’t cross my mind from time to time. I wonder for a moment how many kisses he’s had now. How many girls have there been since me? There haven’t been many boys since him.<br/>
I hone in on Fresh Prince and Carlton is dancing. I point to the screen, taking Spencer’s attention off me.<br/>
“Remember when we used to do the Carlton for your mom?” I ask, recalling the early 90s assembles, snatching a Tom Jones record, and doing the dance in Spencer’s living room. His mom would laugh when she was lucid.<br/>
Spencer bursts out laughing at the memory. I giggle with him. We watch another episode before I feel the heaviness in my eyes. I close my eyes as I hear the laugh track play and a soft laugh from Spencer. It’s mere moments before I’m fast asleep.</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The alarm on my phone jolts me awake. I check the time and it is 7 AM. I sit up, seeing the snacks from the night before left next to me. Somehow I’m under the blanket although I wasn’t when I fell asleep. Spencer is also not here. I turn on the bedside lamp and see a note left on the table. <br/>“You fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake you. I’ll see you in the morning - Spence”<br/>I guess he tucked me in… I shake away the butterflies and decide to quickly get ready for the day ahead. Every minute that passes is another that the unsub can snatch another girl. I fell asleep so late, I hope there’s coffee somewhere. I get dressed and get a good look at myself in the mirror, I have dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep. I sigh and decide some makeup will do. I apply primer, concealer, blush, eyeliner, and mascara all in the attempt to make me look more awake than I feel. I set my face with setting spray as I am for sure not going to be touching up throughout the day. I add some lipstick for good measure. I wear my hair down this time. Satisfied with my appearance, I make sure to grab all my essentials and toss them in my bag before leaving the hotel room. <br/>I loiter outside my door for a moment waiting to see if anyone else is out the door yet. Am I too early? I hear shuffling in Spencer’s room so at the very least someone is in there. I lean against the wall, waiting for someone to come out. <br/>“Excuse me miss?”<br/>A man grabs my attention, he’s average height and medium build with sandy hair and wire-framed glasses. I’d guess he’s in his early 30s.<br/>“Yes?” <br/>“Sorry to bother you but are you waiting for someone?”  He asks politely. He’s wearing a uniform from the hotel so he’s probably wondering what I’m doing out in the hall. <br/>“Yeah, my colleague is about to come out. I’ll be out of the way in a minute I promise.” I point to Spencer’s door. I tap on it quickly. <br/>“That’s okay miss.” He turns away and begins to walk towards the stairs. At the staircase door, he stops for a moment and says, “Miss, you have lovely hair” The way he looks at me sends a cold chill down my spine. I knock harder on Spencer’s door. The man leaves as Spencer opens the door. <br/>He’s half-dressed. “Can I come in?” I don’t really wait for an answer and he lets me in. <br/>“Good morning,” Spencer says as he’s adjusting his tie. <br/>“Good morning…  so when did you sneak out of my room?” <br/>“After you snored through an episode of Full House.” Spencer snickers. I glare at him, picking up his tie and whacking him lightly with it. <br/>“Very funny. Do you know if everyone else is up yet?” I ask. <br/>“Knowing Hotch, he probably never slept. Rossi and JJ rise pretty early, Emily and Morgan wait until the last possible minute to get up. I’m sure they’ll get us in a couple of minutes.” <br/>I nod, at least I’m not starting my second day late. I’m rattling off the list of languages we spotted in the texts, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, Russian, and Korean. We haven’t looked into translations yet. I need to ask Detective Daniel for a computer, or I should call Garcia. <br/>Shit. I forgot to call her. She’s not going to be too happy with me. <br/>“Y/N, are you ready to go?” Spencer brings me out of my thoughts. <br/>“I’m ready.” Spencer is fully dressed now, his Chuck Taylors catches my eye. My boots are comfortable but not as comfortable as sneakers. I really need to verify the dress code with someone. Between Garcia and Spencer, it looks like there’s room to be fun and comfortable instead of bordering on grayscale and professional. <br/>We walk out of Spencer’s room and run into JJ who’s already out and knocking on my door. <br/>“Good morning,” She says eyeing the two of us curiously. God, she’s probably wondering if we stayed together all night or something. <br/>Spencer waves, completely oblivious to what JJ is thinking. “Hi JJ,” I say, walking past her. “Where is everyone else? I went to grab Spencer when I heard he was up.” I needlessly clarify. <br/>“Ah,” JJ responds nodding. “Everyone is down the lobby, I just came up to grab you two.” <br/>We all go into the elevator, we ride down in silence. <br/>I step off the elevator as soon as the door opens and walk straight into Morgan, ‘Hey Mami.” Morgan greets me. While he’s extremely flirtatious I know Morgan isn’t hitting on me. “Buenos Dias, Papi” I respond with a wink. Spanish was always my favorite language. <br/>Rossi clears his throat, “If you kids are finished, we have to go speak with all the victims; boyfriends. Reid and Y/L/N, you’re going to the station to see if you can find any additional information.” <br/>We both nod. “Would you ask the boyfriends what the victims' favorite books were? Or plays? I want to see if there’s a connection between the references we’re seeing and the personal tastes of the victims.” I ask. <br/>“Good thinking Y/L/N, that can turn into a solid lead.” Emily comments. I fight the urge to smile, maybe I’m supposed to be here after all. Hotch drives Spencer and me back to the station, he’s going to arrange a press conference so he needs to finalize some details with the detectives for when a profile will be ready. My phone buzzes with a text notification from Garcia. <br/>Good morning my crime fighters!<br/>Already sent you the last coordinates of where Catherine Jacobs cell phone last was. <br/>Also to chipper up your day I found a picture of baby Reid and Y/N. <br/>Fuck. It’s a group chat. My phone buzzes again when the picture is received. <br/>I immediately recognize it. In the photo, Spencer and I are about 9. This was when his magician phase was in full swing. He wearing a tux, cape, hat, and even white gloves. I’m wearing some sort of glittery leotard with cringy makeup. I was his assistant of course. Spencer even has braces and large round glasses. I can’t believe my new boss has a picture of child me in a sparkly leotard. This is more embarrassing than the time I accidentally kissed my supervisor on the cheek instead of a handshake. Different cultural customs can make things weird sometimes. <br/>I immediately text Garcia asking how she found that picture. I don’t even have that picture out in the digital universe. <br/>At once I receive, Aunt Marisol :) Mental reminder to hack my aunt and yank all childhood photos from her social media. <br/>Hotch looks down at his phone, and Spencer is in the front seat so I can’t tell if he’s checked his messages. I feel my cheeks warm, my face flushing. <br/>“I take it you both met in childhood then?” Hotch asks. Great, he saw the picture. <br/>“Yes sir, we lived in the same neighborhood and we were in the same class until the 4th grade,” I answer. <br/>“When did you two meet then?” Hotch asks again. <br/>Spencer answers this time, “We met when we were about 3 years old. Our fathers were friends. We were close until Y/N and her family moved away when we were 12.” <br/>“Spending your entire pre-adolescence together most likely led to an extremely close friendship, would you say that was your experience?” Hotch asks again. It’s strange how formal he’s framing the questions, almost like an analysis more than common curiosity. <br/>“Definitely, Spence was my whole world.” I answer as Spencer says, “Very close.” <br/>Now, I’ve made this whole situation far more awkward than necessary. Hotch parks the SUV and I hop out before they have a chance to catch up. I need coffee yesterday. <br/>Daniel greets me as I enter the station, “Good morning Y/N” He greets. <br/>“Hi, Daniel.” Reading my mind Daniel asks me, “Would you like some coffee?” <br/>“God, yes, please. Lead the way.” I turn to see Hotch and Spencer walking through the door, Hotch is bombarded with people approaching him. <br/>I follow Daniel to the station’s very sad and tiny kitchenette. Thankfully, fresh coffee is being brewed. I grab an obscene amount of sugar and pour it into a coffee cup. <br/>“That’s a lot of sugar.” Daniel comments. I pour the coffee into my cup. <br/>“What can I say I like sweet things.” <br/>“You’ll just love me then.” <br/>“Detective Lang, are you flirting with a federal agent?” I ask teasingly. He is rather handsome, however, he lives clear across the country. I can’t exactly tell if he's playing flirting like Morgan or actually interested in me which would be a first for me. <br/>“That would depend on if you’re flirting back Agent Y/L/N.” I feel myself blushing again. <br/>“Excuse me” I hear an agitated voice behind me. <br/>Spencer. <br/>“Oh sorry” I move out of the way. Coffee in hand, I say, “I really should get to work” I gesture to the conference room and walk over as Spencer huffs into his coffee. <br/>I open the door and see that Hotch has put up crime scene photos. Dead women lying on sheets of paper. All of them hurt and broken. Under each photo is a name: Josephine Lennox, Elizabeth Cruz, Juliet Feria, Anna Thompson, Daisy Levi, and Catherine Jacobs. <br/>God, Anna Thompson’s eyes were open. I think I’m going to be sick. <br/>I sit down, my back to the board. If I see them staring at me, I might throw up. I take a deep breath and open the next box of texts. I need to do everything I can to make sure that this doesn’t happen to another woman. <br/>Hotch gets a phone call and then says to me “I’m needed at Juliet Feria's home, I’ll be back later. Call if you if you find anything.”<br/>“Will do” I reply. I’m trying not to actively shake. Spencer walks in and sets down his coffee, Hotch says goodbye to both of us and leaves. I’m staring down at the table, trying to erase those women from my brain. I’d rather remember them alive and smiling. As people, not bodies left somewhere. I’m not sure which is sadder. <br/>Spencer sat down across from me. I keep my eyes focused on the table. I shut my eyes trying to erase Anna Thompson’s. <br/>“Y/N, are you okay?” Spencer asks. I shake my head. I open my eyes and look at him, he catches what’s on the board behind me and realizes what’s wrong with me. <br/>“Sometimes you forget not everyone is used to the things we see on a daily basis,” Spencer says. He reaches across the table and grips my hands in his. <br/>I squeeze back. While his hands are bigger now, there’s a comfort in holding them like I used to do all those years ago. <br/>“I don’t know how you do this. My first case and I’m already losing my cool.” I scoff at myself. <br/>“If you didn’t care enough to be upset, I’d be worried about you. You’re strong enough to do this job.” <br/>I let go of his hands, the warmth leaving me. I take a deep breath in and out and return to the pages. “Thank you,” I whisper. <br/>“Always” Spencer replies. <br/>Together with Spencer, we translate the non-English quotes. I find a Pablo Neruda quote, “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” in the Elizabeth Cruz pages. Spencer makes note of a Korean proverb, “ A widower knows a widow’s sorrow” in Anna Thompson’s pages. <br/>Unsure how they connect to the specific victims it’s difficult to know why these women were picked without more information within the victimology. <br/>“These translations look like something you would get from the internet. I don’t think the unsub actually knows these languages. There’s nothing to indicate fluency in anything other than English. Typically, there’s evidence of connections in the language.” Spencer notes after we’ve been reading for a few hours. <br/>“Do we know if Anna Thompson is a widow?” I ask Spencer. <br/>“Call Garcia?” Spencer suggests. I sigh and pull out my cell phone and search through my contacts. I hit dial and put it on speaker. <br/>“The great and powerful oracle at your service. What do you need beautiful?” Garcia’s voice shines through. <br/>I decide to play along, “She who is fashionable and all-knowing can you tell me if Anna Thompson was a widow by any chance?” <br/>“Y/N darling I already love you no need to talk sweet nothings to me.” <br/>Spencer rolls his eyes. I hear her typing away on the other side. <br/>“Anna Thompson was widowed when she was only 20, her husband died in a car accident 2 months after they were married. High school sweethearts…” Garcia sounds so sad as she relays the details of Anna Thompson’s tragedy. <br/>“The unsub knew that she was widowed… Garcia, have you found anything linking everyone yet?”<br/>“Not as of yet but I’ll keep on looking. What are you thinking?”<br/>“Can you check credit card history to see if they frequented the same book stores or social media groups related to literature?” Spencer asks. <br/>“I’ll hit you back. Stay magic you two. Garcia out.”Garcia hangs up the call. <br/>Spencer and I roll our eyes. <br/>“I think the unsub actually crossed paths with our victims. Being a widow doesn’t exactly come up in casual conversation right?” I ask Spencer. <br/>“You may be right on that and seeing as it wasn’t mentioned in Anna’s recent social media it can be assumed that it was something she told the unsub or he overheard.” <br/>Feeling not any closer to the conclusion that we were yesterday I feel defeated. Now it’s the late afternoon and Hotch has brought the team lunch so we can eat while discussing the profile. <br/>I don’t know how everyone in the BAU is so fit when clearly fast food is what they usually eat in cases. Maybe they have a team workout system, how do I get in on that? I would kill for JJ’s waistline. <br/>“Y/L/N we asked about the books and it turns out all the victims were avid readers,” Rossi says as he’s picking at his french fries. <br/>JJ chimes in, “We’re going to catalog the books they owned so you can see if there’s any overlap.” <br/>I nod, lost in my own thinking process. There’s something reaching out for me in all this, I know it. I just haven’t seen it yet. Spencer’s hand creeps over to my food and he swipes a fry from my pile. Keeping my eyes on everyone, I reach over and snatch a curly fry from Spencer. Jerk is taking my fries when he has his own special ones. I guess people don’t change that much. <br/>I listen as they all discuss the final profile for the police department. As time crunches down, we know the unsub will soon be abducting another woman. A white male in his late 20s to mid-30s, physically fit, appears non-threatening, and clearly hates women. He’s unable to form personal relationships with them and that’s why he kills. His need to kill has mixed with a delusional centered around literature. Particularly romance. He might even think he’s in love with them before he kills them.<br/>I fight the sickness I feel when I recall how many men like that I’ve encountered in my life. After we’ve finished eating, an officer brings in a list of the books the victims owned. Spencer grabs the list and in seconds he’s scanned the entire thing. <br/>“They are a few overlapping titles, but all six women actually owned: Little Women, Pride and Prejudice, Romeo and Juliet, Anna Karenina, The Great Gatsby, and Wuthering Heights. Hold on a second….” Spencer announces. He pulls out his cell phone, the rest of us lean forward expectantly waiting to see where his genius brain is going. <br/>“Garcia hi, could you please check the recent book purchases across all six victims? Is that right? Okay thanks, Garcia” <br/>He hangs up the phone. “Well?” Rossi asks. <br/>“No evidence of recent purchases of any of those titles.” <br/>Prentiss chimes in, “We’re missing a connection.”<br/>Hotch rises and throws away his food, “It’s time to deliver the profile.” <br/>Everyone gets up and throws away their food. Cleaning themselves off and getting ready to present in front of the entire department.  I stay behind organizing everything on the tables. Hopefully, with the book club connection, we’ll be tracing it to an unsub soon. <br/>I open the blinds and watch as everyone takes their part in delivering the profile. They command the entire department, every officer and detective fixated on the BAU. I feel like a creep peering in on them but it’s like watching superheroes in action. I see Daniel writing down notes as he listens intently. When it’s Spencer’s turn to speak he talks mostly with his hands. Spencer turns his gaze away from the crowd for just a moment and settles his eyes on me. Shit. I’ve been caught, I quickly turn around trying to pretend he didn’t catch me staring at him. <br/>I reach into the Catherine Jacobs box and peer over the pages again. It’s more of the same nonsensical ranting this one angrier than the previous I’ve read. “Watch me, wave me, pass me down the street. The lights in your hair, in your eyes, I know you see me there. Glass lights reflect me, you are mine I know you are you hateful bitch. Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same. You’ll see.” <br/>“Souls…” I say aloud. I know that quote. It’s not a direct quote but I know it. But from where? <br/>Spencer walks back in first, I look at him and I know. I grab him by his jacket excitedly I quote, “He’s more myself than I am. Whatever souls are made of -” <br/>“His and mine are the same” Spencer finishes. Everyone else in the room is confused. JJ breaks the silence, “What are you doing?” <br/>I let go of Spencer and turn around, “It’s from Wuthering Heights. Do you know the Emily Bronte novel? It was published in 1847 under the pseudonym Ellis Bell as it wasn’t common for women to publish under their own names at the time. It’s the tragic tale about two childhood best friends torn apart by anger and class issues. Ultimately it ends in toxic relationships with all involved with their relationships being resentful and almost everyone ends up dead….” I’m rambling. Everyone is staring at me wide-eyed. “What I do?” <br/>Rossi answers first, “My God there’s two of them.” I look around confused. “I’m lost.” <br/>Morgan rubs my shoulders, “Don’t worry about it Mami, why is Wuthering Heights relevant?” <br/>I hold up the sheet and show Hotch, “It was in the Catherine Jacobs pages. Catherine is the female protagonist in the novel. This might be the connection.” <br/>Spencer grabs the Romeo and Juliet quote from the board, “Wasn’t this in Juliet Feria’s pages?” <br/>I nod. Hotch looks at both of us, “The women he targets share their names with a central literary character. I’ll let the detectives know.” The rest of the team files out to liaise with the other officers to try to come up with some new leads now that we have some sort of way the unsub is selecting his victims and how they’re connected.</p>
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